


Shaken and Stirred

by CookieDoughMe



Series: Nate Hansen AU [10]
Category: Haven (TV)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Shared fantasies, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-12-06 19:21:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18224366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CookieDoughMe/pseuds/CookieDoughMe
Summary: Duke and Nate have some fun thinking about alternative universes.





	Shaken and Stirred

Life aboard the Cape Rouge was many things for Duke and Nate and it was never monotonous. One week they might be shifting cargo for an wholely legitimate delivery job. The next they might be placing bets on each other in a not-entirely-legal boxing match. The next, a thoroughly illegal smuggling job, the week after that a dangerous jewel theft conducted in the kind of country that had a throw-away-the-key attitude to jail sentences, particularly for cocky Americans. 

And then, there were the cons. These varied too, from short-and-simple classics to the kind sometimes that took months to set up. At the moment they were engaged in one of the latter and had spent the day acting like respectable business executives, right down to their briefcases, shiny shoes, expensive cufflinks and perfectly tailored suits.

The potential pay-off was exciting, but that wasn’t the only reason they did it; they liked the intellectual challenge too, of outwitting people who had the advantage of knowing their industry better than Duke and Nate did. Not that it didn’t have its downsides as well; they had spent most of the day in meetings with the kind of executives who had acquired their positions of wealth and power more thanks to their slick accents and confident sales technique than any real talent or hard work.

Duke dropped his briefcase onto their coffee table to undo his jacket and loosen his tie, before stepping into the galley to pick up a bottle of whiskey and a couple glasses. “God that guy was a douche,” he said with feeling. “I’m doing this all as an act and even I could see that half of what he was talking about made no sense whatsoever.”

“Just asking to have someone relieve him of his money really,” said Nate, bolting the door behind him before his briefcase joined Duke’s.

“Totally,” agreed Duke and handed him a whiskey. They clinked the glasses together in their traditional double-tap toast before downing them, and Duke poured again.

“Like the suit on you though,” Nate commented, making a show of looking Duke up and down before he took a sip of his drink.

They had debated the suits in detail when they’d started planning the con. Suits were not the kind of thing they normally spent a lot of money on. Or indeed, any money on at all. But half the battle with a con like this was creating the right impression, and in the end they had decided that some perfectly-fitting suits from the right tailor would be a good investment. It actually took them longer to decide where to get them made; London for some Saville Row tradition, or Milan for the super-stylish option. It was another job that made the decision for them; they were going to be in Milan anyway and London was a big detour, so super-stylish it was. 

They had asked for traditional though; overly stylish and trendy did not quite go with the image they were trying to project for this job. But underneath the muted design, they were still bespoke Italian suits; stylish and flattering, perfectly fitted soft fabrics that showed off the body underneath just enough, and which stayed crisp and cool in the mediterranean heat. They each had a different design; Nate going for blue fabric in a three piece style, Duke picking a darker grey to set off the crisp white shirt he wore underneath it.

“Yeah?” Duke replied, looking down at himself. “I still feel awkward in it to be honest, it's kind of… surreal. Outside of the job I mean. It's like being a whole different person.” His tone of voice suggested it was not someone Duke would rather be.

“An alternate universe, where you work in an office,” Nate prompted, covering his grin with another sip of whiskey. 

“Oh god, don't even say it,” Duke replied with feeling. He took off his sterling silver cufflinks and walked towards the bedroom to put them away, talking to Nate over his shoulder as he went. “Can you imagine; bored to tears all week, taking ever-increasing risks in high-stakes poker games at the weekend just to feel alive. End up owing too much money to the wrong people and no idea how to deal with it. No. Thank. You.”

Nate grimaced in sympathy. “Could be something with some value,” he suggested as he followed Duke into the bedroom. “Maybe a universe where you're … a lawyer. A public defender, keeping the innocent free. Or a prosecutor, helping put violent homophobes behind bars. Guess there might still be a bit of high stakes poker at the weekend though,” Nate added, leaning against the door frame as Duke looked around for the little box the cufflinks came in. The long lines of Nate’s limbs in the dark blue fabric made a pretty picture against the blue-green walls of the Rouge. With one hand resting in his pocket and the other holding the glass of whiskey, the three piece suit showed off his figure perfectly.

“Hmmm,” replied Duke unconvinced, looking around the room for the misplaced box. “And what are you doing in this alternate reality?”

“Maybe I'm one of your cases,” Nate suggested as he watched him, enoying the view too much to make any effort to help Duke in his search.

Duke turned to Nate and wrinkled his nose at the lack of imagination this represented. “Maybe you bring me my cases, detective,” he countered. “Doesn't look bad on you either you know,” he pointed out with a gesture, before he turned back to the bedside cabinet. “What did I do with the damn box for these things?” he muttered to himself.

“Detective Hansen?” asked Nate doubtfully, pushing himself upright again and taking another sip of his drink.

Duke nodded, warming now to the idea of an alternate reality where they met each other all over again. “With a badge on your belt, spending your days helping to keep people safe. You'd be good at that actually,” he added, sounding somewhat surprised by the realisation. “Ah!” he added as he finally found the box on the dresser back where he'd started.

“You'd be the best public prosecutor in town,” said Nate easily as he put his glass down on the dresser where the box had been. “But you forgot something.”

“What?” Duke asked and put the cufflinks in their box down on the dresser. 

“The handcuffs next to the badge on my belt,” said Nate, voice low as he stepped close into Duke’s space to bump Duke’s back against the wall, and put his hand to his own belt as though reaching for a pair of cuffs.

Duke’s eyes went wide and he watched Nate’s mouth as he replied, “And trained in all the best ways to restrain someone too.”

“Indeed,” Nate responded and leaned forward just a little to play with the idea of a kiss as his eyes darted over Duke’s lips, before grabbing Duke by the shoulders and moving him around until the back of Duke’s legs hit the bed. Duke leant forward for a kiss, but Nate added, “Restrained and teased,” and pulled Duke’s suit jacket back and half-way down his arms, then gave him a short, sharp push backwards. 

Duke fell easily onto the bed and lay on his back, arms held to his sides by the Italian silk. He thought about objecting to this treatment of their investment in fashion, but he was distracted by the look in Nate’s eyes as Nate straddled him, trapping Duke’s wrists with his knees so that Duke was held still.

Nate looked down at him, white shirt framed by the dark suit jacket that had his arms trapped by his sides, and continued, “Held still while I do …” he shifted his hips suggestively against Duke’s, “... whatever I want. Or,” he added, pressing his weight down as he looked Duke over, “maybe I'm not a detective at all, but a Fed. Or Interpol.” He reached forward to slide Duke’s tie slowly from his collar, playing with the silk between his fingers as though thinking through the best way to make use of it. “Maybe I'm secret service,” he said, voice low as he leant forward just a little, “trained in the most deliciously hard-to-resist interrogation techniques of all.”

“I must have done something incredibly cunning if double oh seven himself is on my tail,” said Duke, shifting his hips experimentally between Nate’s knees.

“The name's Bond,” Nate quoted, and looped Duke’s tie around his own neck, as though holding onto it for later. “James Bond,” he finished, with a touch of Sean Connery lisp.

“Nice!” said Duke, breaking out of the moment. “Hard-to-resist accent to go along with everything else.”

“Hard to resist am I?” Nate asked as he started to slowly undo Duke’s belt.

“Always,” murmured Duke, watching Nate’s hands against the leather. 

Nate leant down to kiss him, long and deep, then sat back up and returned to mock-serious to tell him, “Thing is, I'm actually a double agent.”

“How sneaky of you,” replied Duke, referring both to the double agent comment and to the way he'd given Duke a taste of a kiss then pulled away out of reach. 

“Very,” Nate agreed. “Turned villain in fact, and M has sent her rising star - that would be you,” he added as an aside, “- to bring me in.” Nate finished undoing Duke’s belt and slid it smoothly out of its loops, Duke pushing his hips off the bed a little to help.

“My first big mission! How am I doing so far?” asked Duke eagerly.

“Well … tied up in my safe house,” said Nate and began to wrap either end of Duke’s belt around his hands. “With no backup, so… not great.”

“Damn,” replied Duke. He watched as Nate tensed the belt experimentally between his fists. “What … um?” Duke began, eyeing Nate’s fingers as they pulled against the brown leather. Nate raised an eyebrow at him, and brought his fists to the bed above Duke’s shoulders, the leather resting against his throat to act as a further restraint.

“Yes?” Nate prompted Duke to continue with his sentence.

For a moment Duke just breathed, then he asked, “Don't I have any high-tech gadgets to help me?” 

Nate leant forward, almost close enough to kiss but not quite. Duke strained upwards to reach him, pressing his throat against the leather that held him in place. Nate played with the idea of a kiss some more as he pulled his fists just a little further apart, pushing the leather down against Duke’s windpipe. Duke relaxed back on to the bed and Nate leant forward then to kiss him properly, letting go of the leather as he did.

Nate pulled out of the kiss and sat back up, sliding the leather over Duke’s throat to pile it on the sheets by his shoulder instead. He reached forward to undo Duke’s shirt buttons. Not with the slow tease Duke might have been expecting, but with a certain focus and efficiency, so that Nate was soon pulling the white cotton to either side to lay Duke’s suntanned chest bare. Nate pulled the shirt open all the way and ran his fingertips over Duke’s collarbone to push the cotton over his shoulders and add the shirt to the list of things keeping his arms held at his sides.

Nate took a minute to appreciate the view of Duke lying half-dressed beneath him before he replied, “Most of them were in the multi-million-dollar car you blew up getting the girl to safety.”

“Ah,” Duke nodded, shifting his shoulder blades underneath him and stretching his spine; feeling the fabric against his arms and the way Nate’s body kept his wrists and hips in place. “Sounds like I'm getting the hang of the double-oh lifestyle then.” 

Nate ran a single finger from Duke’s throat down his chest, over his belly button and stomach and then began to undo the buttons of his fly. This time he went slowly, taking his time over each button in turn and dragging out the gaps between them as Duke watched.

“Don't … um…” Duke began. Nate pushed his thumb between the now-open fabric to run a line up Duke’s erection and Duke’s sentence wavered before he found it again, “ … I have any gadgets left at all? How very … ah ... careless of me.”

“Just one,” Nate replied. “A hidden microphone, recording everything you say,” he paused then to run his palm over Duke’s cock, drawing a moan out of him, even through the fabric of his underwear, “Every sound you make - and transmitting it straight to M.”

Nate drew the palms of his hands over Duke’s hips, then down to push Duke’s clothes out of the way, lifting his hips and pushing the fabric of his pants down over his ass to leave Duke’s cock fully exposed. He ran his hands back around Duke’s hips, resting his fingers next to his cock and looking at him with a look as though to ask, What next?

Duke looked up at him for a moment before asking, “And what um, incarnation of M is this exactly?”

“Remember Denise Barrett’s mom?” 

Duke absolutely did, and Nate knew it too; they had talked about her before. Aside from her high-powered career and regular marathon running, her main goal in life had been keeping Haven's most controversial teenagers away from her precious daughter. She had been all toned muscles, short skirts and stern looks. Duke remembered her alright.

“Ah.”

“Indeed,” Nate agreed. “Won't be happy if you can't resist me; she’ll be dreaming up inventive punishments for you,” he added. He paused to wrap his fingers around Duke’s cock; stroked slowly, once, twice, then let go to rest back on Duke’s hip. “Has some skills of her own,” he added as the fingers of his other hand found Duke’s balls with a feather-light touch. Duke watched what Nate was doing and breathed hard at the feel of one set of fingertips, even as he watched the other lie frustratingly close to his cock, but still.

“What…” he breathed. “What's she going to do with me?”

“Won't need any fancy equipment to hold you still: will keep you in place with a stiletto heel pressed against your throat,” Nate told him and pressed his thumb against Duke’s windpipe in imitation. Duke angled his throat into the touch and Nate pressed a little harder. “She's stood over you,” Nate elaborated. “Can see along her legs, up into her skirt. Can see her cunt, tempting you.”

Nate brought his other hand from Duke’s balls to his cock, a light fingertip touch; a tease and nothing more. “She wants you distracted as she questions you about your failed mission,” Nate told him. 

“I …” Duke began, watching as Nate danced his fingertips over sensitive skin. 

“No matter your answers she only has more questions,” Nate said as he wrapped his fingers around Duke to stroke him slowly again; enough to feel good, not enough to take him anywhere.

Duke looked up at Nate, tried his sentence again, “I can't convince her I did some good work?”

Nate shook his head. “She has another use for you.”

Nate fell silent, kept up that slow rhythm. He took his hand from Duke’s neck, brought it to the base of Duke’s cock.

“What?” asked Duke, prompting Nate for more detail.

“Kneels either side of your head to press her cunt to your mouth,” Nate said. “Sweet and wet and eager for you. Doesn't tell you what she likes though; wants you to work it out.”

“Bet I do a good job of that,” Duke breathed around gasps as Nate played with the grip he had on Duke’s cock. 

“Better hope you do,” Nate said, and he returned a hand to Duke’s neck, fingers wrapped around it and palm pressed down lightly in a suggestion of strangulation. “She knows a hundred ways to kill you, if you disappoint.”

Duke looked up at Nate, eyes held fast within the quickening rhythm of his breathing. “Just the extra motivation I need,” he said after a moment. “Bet I make her scream.”

Nate relaxed his hand a little. “You really do,” he agreed. “Good enough she wants to use you again. Doesn't reward you though: ties your wrists behind you with your own silk tie and leaves you there hard as she walks away.”

Duke closed his eyes and pushed his head back against the bed as Nate carried on teasing his cock. Nate was about to ask if it was too much, wondered if Duke’s safeword was on the tip of his tongue, but then Duke told him, “There's one thing you forgot.”

“Oh really, Agent Crocker, and what was that?”

Around breaths and moans as Nate switched up the rhythm, teasing his cock with both hands, Duke told him, “That one little gadget I had, wasn't … (ah god) ... transmitting just audio but … (fuck, that’s) ... GPS too. M sent her best … (um) … retrieval team to find us. So … (gdhhhh) … it's not just me she’s tormenting.” Duke breathed hard as he looked up at Nate, “You're a double agent remember - betrayed her. She's saving her best punishments for you.”

Nate took his hand from Duke’s neck then to touch himself instead, rubbing slowly at the bulge inside his expensive Italian pants. “What …?” Nate began, loosening his grip on Duke to let him speak.

“Had you tied up the other side the room this whole time, naked, watching me. Now she brings you almost to orgasm with her hand before she stops. She steps back just out of reach. Tells you…” Duke fumbled over his words, stopped for a moment as he looked at Nate, “... Tells you nothing you say will make any difference, she's never going to let you come.”

Nate carried on slowly stroking Duke with one hand while he fumbled to undo his belt and fly and free himself of his clothing. “Never?” Nate asked.

Duke shook his head. “Brings her hand to your throat, reminds you what she can do. Runs her fingernails down your chest, pressing hard enough to draw blood. Leaves scratches down your stomach and brushes her fingers against your cock as she pulls away and back up to your collarbone to do it again.”

Nate murmured something unintelligible as he wrapped his fingers around himself, but he concentrated on Duke first, shifting his grip and his rhythm to something he knew would make Duke come.

Duke closed his eyes as though to concentrate on finishing his sentence before his orgasm hit. “Tells us she's keeping us here to play with, to tease when she feels like it. Maybe… if we're good enough … she'll let us come sometimes too.”

Nate’s hand pulled Duke up to orgasm and they watched each other as he came, a string of curses falling from his mouth. 

Nate kept his fingers wrapped around Duke as he jerked himself off, their eyes on each other the whole while. “God look at you,” Nate said with feeling. “So beautiful lying there like that, all flushed and ... dishevelled and spent and …. God,” he finished as he finished himself too.

Nate relaxed his head back and let go of both of them, then lay on the bed on his back. Duke sat up and shrugged the clothing from his arms, leaning over to cover Nate's body with his as they kissed.

“That was…” Duke began enthusiastically.

“That was,” Nate agreed.

“I think we might have broken the suits though,” Duke pointed out, somewhat mournful as he looked across the bed to the rumbled pile of expensive fabric.

Nate shrugged. “We bought spares. Take ‘em to the dry cleaners in the morning, probably be fine.”

Duke gave him a quizzical look. “You've given that some thought. How long've you been planning to use a finely tailored Italian suit to restrain me?”

“Oh, you know,” said Nate with a quick smile, “Only since I saw you try it on.”

**Author's Note:**

> End notes: Googling to check if there is a Italian equivalent to London’s Saville Row, I read [this article](https://www.senszio.com/bespoke-suits-british-vs-italian/) comparing British and Italian bespoke tailoring, and the deciding factor in which to put Duke and Nate in was this: “In the end, it’s down to your priorities. Want something traditional that’ll last for decades? Go British. Want to look crisp and cool sipping espresso at a Milanese pavement café? You know where to look.” 
> 
> Also, bonus points to anyone who spotted the hidden Conviction reference ;)
> 
> This fic is part of the LLF Comment Project; any form of positive comment is always very welcome.


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